Second Star to the Right
by Hikari7
Summary: Seven abused young women wishing to escape their miserable lives travel to the faraway world of Neverland. Please RR!
1. Chapter 1

Here is another story I'm planning to publish! After seeing "Hook" twenty times, I finally got the idea to create a story with Peter Pan and the lost boys in it. It's taking me forever to write it. Enjoy! ???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????  
  
Mrs. Lavinia Lynch, headmistress of the Saint Catchburry Orphanage, thought her life was perfect. In her eyes, her family, her orphanage, and her life were perfect. Her orphanage housed children and teens between the ages of three to eighteen, although not many lived there, only ten girls and ten boys, excluding Lavinia's daughter Charlotte. The previous owner, the late Mr. Lynch, had run the orphanage before he was married, as his father and grandfather had before him.  
Although she ran the orphanage, Lavinia hardly paid any attention to the actual orphans. She didn't really care about them, as she was only carrying out her dead husband's wishes. She dotted upon Charlotte, spoiling the young girl. She looked more like her father that anyone else in her family, with her curly golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. But she had a rosy complexion, like her mother and a temper all her own. All the orphans envied her, because while they shared cramped rooms, she acquired a lavishly decorated room all her own. She got everything her heart asked for, but hardly cared for any of it.  
Not only did Lavinia run the orphanage, she also home schooled those who lived with her. She schooled them in Math, History, Science, Religion, Art, English, and Music, gaining the exact same education as those in a regular school, if not better. For exercise, they journeyed to the local playground, where the elder children would play sports and the younger children would play on the large play sets. Every week, an older child was selected to watch the younger children play, to make sure they were safe and came home before supper. And every Sunday, Lavinia would take the children to the Church to pray for a new home to live in. Lavinia loved her life, and hopeful that nothing bad would ever happen to it.  
Until a letter came saying that her only sister, Angela, had died in an accident and her daughter would be staying with her. Permanently.  
With the addition of this new resident, Lavinia had to make some changes to her house. All of the spare rooms were filled, and she didn't want Charlotte to share a room with her niece, who was probably as insane as Angela. She had never seen the child, and wasn't even sure of her name, but assumed it was some crazy name Angela had pulled out of her imagination. Lavinia despised imagination. It caused good girls to go bad.  
And so, the only room left unoccupied was the attic, which was infested with spiders and a family of raccoons. She hired an exterminator to get rid of the infestations, and had the orphans dust the room to make it nice. She brought Charlotte's old bed in from the garage, and bought a small dresser from the local furniture shop. She didn't bother getting it from the department store in the city. Those were too expensive, and it was only her niece. It wasn't as if she had a second daughter.  
On the last day of April, the car carrying her niece pulled into the dirt driveway, and disposed of the small child on the doorstep. And when Lavinia took one look at her unfortunate niece, she knew that this child was just like Angela. And she cursed God for giving her a sister.  
  
Gavlyn Grey didn't want to be there. She didn't want to be anywhere, except for her home, with her father and mother. But, as she was reminded hundreds of times, Mommy and Daddy weren't coming home. She wasn't stupid, she was smarter that most five year olds, and she knew her parents were dead, but the Child Welfare Agency treated her like they did any other child. Like a naive five year old.  
After the funeral, Gavlyn had been told to gather her things and wait to be taken to her Aunt's house. A family friend helped pack, but as soon as she left the house, Gavlyn locked herself in. All the windows and doors had been locked, including the dog door and attic window. For days she stayed inside, curled up on her parent's bed, trying to remember their smell, their looks, anything about them. She knew that the Welfare would get inside eventually, so she did what she was told to do. She packed up her belongings. She began to run around the house, gathering things her parents had once owned or had given her. Books, photographs, dolls, even the old knife her father had once promised to her. She didn't know if she needed it where she was going, but she took it anyway. The last thing to go into the box with her things was her mother's wedding dress and veil, and her father's pendant bearing the family crest and fedora, all of which were very important to her. The only thing she didn't take was her clothes. Clothes can be replaced. Memories couldn't.  
When she knew her time was short, she remembered the few things her mother valued most: the portrait of her great-grandmother, the painting of a far away place, and he watercolor set her mother had used when she was young. All these went in a separate box. But there were things that couldn't be saved in a box. The feel of her house, the love that was shared here, all those memories. With one last tour of her house, Gavlyn stepped outside with her hands in the air. She surrendered. But before she went away to her Aunt's house, she made the Welfare promise her that everything in the house would be put into storage until she was eighteen. Nothing was to be forgotten.  
Although Gavlyn was a very young child, the determination in her eyes made the Child Welfare representatives listen to her. That same day, Gavlyn was put in a car along with her belongings and sent to her new home. The next day, the house was put on sale, and the things in the house put in storage until the day Gavlyn was of age.  
When she got out of the large black car, she immediately felt the hatred that radiated off the woman standing on the front porch. The five year old met her aunt's eyes with the same loathing that Lavinia shivered. Her dull sapphire eyes never left Lavinia's until her belongings were brought out of the trunk.  
"What are those?" Lavinia asked, stepping out onto the porch. She felt Gavlyn's cold stare follow her to the car.  
Gavlyn answered her before the representatives could. "Those are mine," she said in a cold, harsh voice. "You are not to touch them." Her lips twitched slightly as she saw Lavinia's startled face.  
"We won't do anything with them, child," she said sweetly, her words dripping with disdain. "We are just going to take them up to your room." She pointed to the attic window. You have that whole room all to yourself. Isn't it wonderful?"  
Gavlyn frowned at it, but the slightly smiled at the large oak tree standing firmly outside the window. "It will do. At least it has a window with a view and gives me some privacy." She saw a few of the orphans her age run around back. "Away from distractions."  
Lavinia knew she would be trouble. There was no doubt about it. She was just like Angela: her looks, her attitude, and her uncanny way of making adults nervous. Angela would always do that. She would look at adults in this way that scared everyone. It was like she was staring into their soul. And Gavlyn was doing that now. She and her mother had these eyes that held intelligence, and wisdom, that mystified anyone who looked into them. Lavinia shivered. Don't let her get to you, she reminded herself. It's the exact thing Angela did to get her way.  
"Don't touch that!" Gavlyn suddenly yelled out, running to the car. The male representative held in his hands a dirty rag doll, worn from years of love. She kicked the man in the shin, making him drop the toy. She snatched it in mid-air and ran to the tall oak tree, using its bulk for protection. She grasped the doll tightly in her arms and breathed in the scent of her mother, who had slept with it until the day she died. She remembered her father constantly joking with her mother, saying that dolls were for children. Her mother would cling to it, saying that it was special and she would never give it up. It was Gavlyn's now.  
"What is it?" Lavinia asked the young man, who was rubbing his shin.  
"Her mother's doll," he replied, standing up. "We tried to make her give it up, but she wouldn't do it."  
Lavinia frowned. She knew what doll it was. It had belonged to her mother, Jane, when she was Gavlyn's age. It had belonged to Angela afterward. She had no idea it would have survived all those years. She sighed. "I'll show you to her room. She can unpack them herself."  
Boxes in hand, the representatives followed Lavinia up the porch steps and into the orphanage, leaving Gavlyn alone behind the oak tree. She didn't want to go in through the stairs. No, that would mean making contact with people she didn't want to know. And she doubted that there were any back stairs. Frowning, she looked up into the oak tree. Its peak reached higher that the house itself and its branches were thick and plentiful. One of the lower branches had broken, making it low enough for Gavlyn to reach. Biting down on the arm of the toy, she grabbed the branch in her small hands and braced her bare feet on the rough trunk. The bark hurt her feet, but after years of running around barefoot, calluses had grown.  
She thought that the branch would snap, and she would go tumbling to the ground, but her lightweight made it easier to climb. Slowly, she maneuvered her way up the tall tree, her doll clenched in her teeth. Her hands and feet became raw from grasping the tough branches, and bits of bark fell into her copper colored hair. She finally made it to the window; she was only an arm's length away. Two branches, parallel to each other, made a nice path into the room, with one just above them to help her keep her balance. She wondered if she was light enough. If she wasn't, she would plummet three stories to the ground, with no one there to catch her.  
Mustering all her courage, she grasped the top branch in her raw hands and lightly stepped onto the lower branches. It didn't break, not even snap. Relieved, she walked across and into the room, where Lavinia and the representatives were putting down her things. She jumped into the room, landing on a padded bench next to the window. She took the toy out of her mouth,  
"This was once a room, wasn't it?" she asked. "Then it was turned into an attic. Now, it's a room again."  
"Rooms go through many changes, child," Lavinia said.  
"I know that," Gavlyn spat. "Everything changes. We just need to accept them."  
Lavinia smiled to hide her disdain. "Of course," she said through clenched teeth. "Any adult knows that."  
Gavlyn didn't respond. Instead, she sat down on the bed and stared at the floor, hugging the doll. The three adults stared at her for a while, until they realized that she wanted to be alone. The representatives left first, telling Lavinia to call them if there were problems. Then only Lavinia and Gavlyn were left.  
"Breakfast is at eight, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at seven o'clock. If you are late, you will get nothing. We go to the park every Wednesday for exercise, and if you are good, you can ask an older child to go into town with you. While you are here, will follow my rules. Is that clear?"  
Gavlyn nodded.  
Satisfied, Lavinia began to exit the room. "Oh yes, I forgot one thing. I do not allow books in my house, except for the required reading for school. Any books you brought with you must be brought to me. Understand?"  
Gavlyn didn't say anything. She continued to stare at the floor.  
"Do you understand?" Lavinia asked again, her voice impatient.  
Gavlyn still didn't answer.  
In one quick movement, Lavinia was at her side. Gavlyn looked up at her with her dull blue eyes, and for once they were full of sadness. But it didn't stop Lavinia from slapping her across the mouth. "You will speak when spoken to!" she spat, eyes blazing. "Do you understand?"  
Gavlyn wiped the small trickle of blood her aunt's sharp nails had drawn. "Yes," she hissed, "Aunt Lavinia."  
Satisfied, Lavinia exited the room, leaving Gavlyn with a slightly split lip and a bruised cheek. She stuck her tongue out at the closed door. No one can stop me from doing what I want, she thought. If she doesn't want to see any books in this house, fine. She began to search the floor for a loose board. She found many, and began to pull them up. "She won't see any books." She smiled to herself, a small spark of rebellion in her eyes. I will never follow her rules. "Never."  
  
Gavlyn spent that night unpacking her belongings. The books went under the floorboards. She hated to put her mothers signed books and her fathers classics in the woodworking, but she had to. If she didn't, they would most likely end up as kindling for winter fires. She hugged her favorite book, the Catcher in the Rye, before placing it on top of her children's books.  
She looked mournfully at the paintings of her great-grandmother and that faraway land. They would have to be put in the corner, until she could hang them up properly. The ancient dagger could not be put on display, like many of her things, and had to be stored until she was older, and Lavinia couldn't do anything about it. But before it was stored into the top drawer of her dresser, she carved eighteen lines under her bed, one for every year. Until the day she was eighteen.  
Last but not least were the gown, the veil, the fedora, and the medallion. "Lavinia can't find these," she muttered. "But I can't hide them under the floor." She sighed. "Then they must go into the drawers."  
She carefully stored the immaculate white gown, with its delicate satin bodice and skirt and pearl studded neckline, into the bottom drawer, and placed the delicate lace veil on top of that. The fedora and medallion was placed in the drawer above. The delicate rag dolls that belonged to every woman in her family were gently placed on the top of the dresser, behind the photograph of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and the photograph of her great-grandmother when she was young.  
She wiped the dust off the glass. "You were so beautiful great- grandmother." She put the photograph down. "Not me though. I look like a boy."  
Exhausted from the week's events, she curled up into her new bed. It wasn't as comfortable as her real bed, which was currently locked in storage, but it was decent enough. At least it wasn't a futon. Clutching her doll in her arms, she tucked her knees to her chin, and cried herself to sleep.  
  
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Wow. This is so much different from my first version. I had to look at the original for references, and I must say that my writing sucked. But this is so much better! Yeah, Gavlyn is a little mature for five, but then again, it did say she wasn't like most five year olds. Besides, I'm sure there are a few super geniuses out there! Right? 


	2. Chapter 2

All right! Chapter 2! IMPORTANT NOTICE AT BOTTOM

Gavlyn woke up early the next morning, earlier than usual, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The sun had already risen over the tops of the tall trees, the small streams of sunlight catching the droplets of dew that glistened on the leaves and grass, making it seem like thousands of diamonds had dropped onto the world. A fresh breeze blew in through the open window, and Gavlyn found it somewhat refreshing. It helped soothe her small body and clear her troubled mind.

From her attic window, she could see the entire town. She hadn't noticed before, being too surly to care about anything, but the town looked strangely antique, like it had been frozen in time. The nearby nineteenth century Victorian houses were complete with large orchards and gardens, each overflowing with various fruits, vegetables, and flowers of every color and size. Gavlyn stared in awe at the simplicity of the tiny town: its dirt roads, the small little red schoolhouse, the old and faded buildings, and the immaculate while church with its large gilded bell ringing for mass. It was such a clear day that she could see the tops of the skyscrapers in the distant city, their tips covered by the clouds and smog.

Her thoughts drifted back to the orphanage she now lived in. People were beginning to stir downstairs; she could hear the slamming of doors and the racing of children to get to the bathrooms. Gavlyn could almost smell the bacon that was cooking on the stoves, and it made her mouth water. Not wanting to attract much attention from the other orphans, she decided to climb down the tree and go through the back door. Smoothing out her clothes, she grabbed the top branch and placed her feet on the two lower ones. She jumped back through the window, her hands and feet pulsing in pain. They were still tender from her climb up yesterday, and would need some time to heal. The staircase was her last option.

She was spotted before she could make it halfway down the stairs. Two of the older children had seen her coming down the stairway leading to the second floor, and screamed in surprise. The other children came out of the rooms, wanting to see what was the commotion. They all stared at the strange new child, especially Charlotte, who loved to know everything that was going on in the orphanage.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Why are you so pale?" another child asked.

"Why is your hair so short?" an older girl asked.

"Are you a boy, or a girl?" an older boy asked.

So many questions, and Gavlyn didn't want to answer them. But, for the sake of being polite, she answered all their questions in one simple statement. "The doctors are still trying to figure out who and what I am, because, you see, I was frozen in time long ago and was recently woken up. That's why I look like this. Is that a problem for you?"

The children gasped in awe. Gavlyn wanted to laugh at their foolishness, but she kept her face like stone as she passed through the crowd of gullible children. She found it hard to believe that the orphans three times her age believed that story. But, it didn't bother her. The less they knew about her, the better.

As she walked down the stairs, Gavlyn got a good look at what the orphanage actually looked like. The second and third floors were rooms, four on each floor. Two obviously belonged to Lavinia and Charlotte, one on the second floor and the other on the third. The rest of the rooms were divided amongst the orphans, four to each room. Others were either bathrooms or cabinets.

Gavlyn felt eyes on the back of her neck. She turned around, and found twenty pairs of eyes staring at her. She grimaced and fought the sudden urge to spin around and shout boo. They followed her to the nearest bathroom, and waited outside until she had finished her business. They followed her downstairs, keeping a safe distance away from her, and into the kitchen.

Lavinia stood at the stove cooking bacon while the teakettle shrieked an ugly whistling noise. She hurriedly turned off the kettle and rushed to the toaster to pull the toast out before it burned. She turned around and made a nasty face at Gavlyn.

"Well, stop gawking and help me," she snapped. "Come finish the bacon while I start making tea."

Gavlyn did what she was told, and began cooking the bacon. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the pan to flip the bacon onto a paper towel to dry, and often had to try many times before she succeeded.

"Damn it!" she screamed as her right arm was hit by flying bits of hot grease. She glared at the sizzling pan, and nursed her burnt arm.

"What did you say?" Lavinia shrieked.

"The grease burned me!" she shouted back. "I don't even know how to cook bacon." She pointed at the staring orphans. "They're old enough, and tall enough, to cook. Why don't you make them cook it?"

Lavinia slapped Gavlyn across the mouth. "Go to your room and stay there until I allow you to come out!" She grabbed the five year old by her burned arm. "Go on! OUT!"

"What if I have to pee?"

Lavinia shoved a cooking pot in her arms. "You can use this for now. I can always buy a new one."

Gavlyn cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. She trudged upstairs dragging the pot behind her, the eyes of the other orphans watching her. "BOO!" she shouted, twirling around. To her dismay, it didn't work.

In her room, Gavlyn could hear the sounds of the town waking up. The bronze bell of the school rang, calling the children to school, and was matched by the clear ringing of the gilded church bell. She could hear a cock crowing in the next yard, and a woman's high-pitched screams as she shooed it away from her bean plants.

She remembered, while living in her house, the neighborhood rooster Polly. She and the other children on her street used to feed it watermelon seeds on hot summer days. It was old and wasn't good for much except waking people up in the morning, but because the children loved him so much, the owners kept it. Gavlyn wondered if Polly was still around and was being taken care of by the other children. She wondered if they missed her as much as she missed them.

"Go away, Pete!" Lavinia shouted. "We have nothing for you here!"

Gavlyn looked down to the backdoor. A grizzled old man was standing at the porch; a crooked grin on his face while Lavinia waved a spatula at him.

"I know ye got somethin' in there, Lavi!' he cackled. "I can smell the bacon 'n eggs from 'ere!"

"None of this is for you, you bat!" She waved the spatula in his face. "I've got twenty hungry mouths to feed and you're not one of them!"

"C'mon then! Jest an apple fer ole Pete. Whatcha say?"

"NO!" She slammed the door in his face.

"Why all the-"he muttered. "Jest wanted an apple."

Gavlyn leaned out the window to hear more from Pete. She caught phrases like "ole bat" and various profanities. She leaned out more, hoping to catch something interesting. She held onto the oak branch for support, and leaned out as far as she can. He stood underneath the tall tree and crossed his arms, glaring at the back door. "Thinks she's so big," he said. "Remember when..."

Gavlyn leaned out further. Too far, and lost her grip on the branch and tumbled out the window. She tried not to scream out as she fell. To die would be better than staying at the orphanage. At least in death she could be with the parents. When no crash came, she opened her eyes.

"Lordy me! It be rainin' orphans!" Pete set Gavlyn down on her feet. "Whatcha be doin' fallin' outta the attic window?"

"That's my room. And I didn't mean to fall. You were sayin' somethin' neat and I wanted to hear."

"Ye heard all that?" he gasped.

Gavlyn nodded her head. "Somethin' about how my aunt was a total bi-" Pete covered her mouth with his gnarled hand.

"None o' that, Missy," he chastised. "Best be goin' back to yer room so ye don't get inta anymore trouble."

"Why do you talk funny?"

"Yer a rude one, ain't ya?" he snarled. "This is my dialect. A dialect is...well, a dialect is...yer to young to understand."

"Is it why you talk funny?"

Pete tweaked his nose. "I suppose so. Now, get back to that attic room of yours."

Gavlyn grabbed a handful of his gray jacket. "I like you. Wanna adopt me?"

Pete made a wheezing noise. "Adopt ye? Lass, I can barely take care of myself."

She cursed under her breath. She wanted to be out of the orphanage, and she didn't care with whom. "So what do you do when you can't get food from my prickly aunt?"

"Head on over ta the local bar fer a couple o' rounds."

"Can I tag along?"

Pete cocked an eyebrow. "Shouldn't ye stay here with yer Auntie?"

"I hate my aunt. Take me with you."

Pete tweaked his nose. "Right. Keep up and don't stray." He began walking toward the town at a fast pace. Determined to keep up, Gavlyn kept his pace, jogging along side him. Pete was amazed that a five year old was determined to keep up with a frazzled old man like him, and he slowed down every once in the while.

Gavlyn took these slower times to admire the area she was in. From her attic window, the outlying orchards and groves looked small. From the beat up dirt path, however, she understood how small she really was. The large stone walls behind the aging Victorian houses were encrusted with thick, emerald green ivy and large royal purple morning glories. Peeking out from the over the walls were lush fruit trees ripe for picking. She could see ruby red apples and bright oranges ready to be eaten and overflowing with delicious juice. Gavlyn's mouth watered. Because she had been banned from the breakfast table, she was prepared to eat anything.

"Don't even bother asking for anything," Pete said, eying her watering mouth. "That's Old Man Jenkins' house. And he don't give to nobody."

Despite his advice, Gavlyn ran up to the doorstep. "Does he have a Mrs. Jenkins? Pete nodded. "Then there's no problem." She knocked on the door a few times and an elderly woman answered the door.

She was a full-bodied woman with steel gray hair and crows feet around her eyes from smiling too much. She looked down at Gavlyn with her shining brown eyes. "Can I help you little girl?"

Gavlyn smiled brightly, showing a full mouth of baby teeth. "Hi there, Gramma," she greeted affectionately. "I was wondering if I could have an apple from the tree. They look yummy!"

Mrs. Jenkins smiled warmly. "What a cute little girl you are," she cooed. "Where are your parents?"

"I'm staying with my Uncle Pete!" She pointed to Pete, who stood a distance away. "He's my Mommy's uncle."

"Well then I'm sure you haven't had a proper breakfast." She extended her hand. "I was about to make some waffles. Would you like some?"

Gavlyn grinned. "Thanks a lot, Gramma!" She took the woman's hand and followed her inside. She shot Pete a sly grin before the door closed on her.

The house was, unlike the orphanage, a warm and friendly place. There were photos of the Jenkins family everywhere, along with beautiful paintings of serene landscapes. A soft oriental runner covered the corridor leading to the kitchen. The kitchen was full of morning summer light that glinted off the pots and pans hung over the sky blue tiled counter top. A rustic wooden table sat in the corner nest to a sliding glass door that led to the orchard. A small stained glass hummingbird hung from the lock, reflecting the vibrant colors onto the table.

"I like that," Gavlyn said, pointing at the hummingbird.

"My grandson Timmy painted that for me," Gramma Jenkins said, pulling out a hair for Gavlyn to sit on. "He's about your age, I think. Would you like some apple juice?"

"Yes please!" Gavlyn said, sitting down. "You've got a nice kitchen, Gramma."

She smiled at Gavlyn as she poured the mix into the waffle iron. "My grandfather built this house for his mother after his father died. He built her everything her heart desired, and more. I grew up in this house, my children grew up in this house, and I will most likely die in this house."

"It's so...warm." She looked around the kitchen. "It's so nice in here. Mommy, Daddy and I would eat breakfast in the kitchen too. Daddy would tell me jokes while Mommy brushed my hair and tied a little blue ribbon in it. I would have ham and eggs every morning, with a glass of milk." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I loved them."

Gramma Jenkins looks up from the waffle iron. "Are you alright?"

"I lied to you Gramma. I'm not visiting, and Pete isn't my uncle. I'm an orphan. My parents are dead. But I'm living with my Aunt Lavinia in the orphanage."

"Then shouldn't you be with her?"

"She doesn't like me, Gramma. I don't want to be with her. She didn't let me eat today because I said a bad word. But it wasn't on purpose. I burned myself on the bacon 'cause she was making me cook it."

"But you're only five."

Gavlyn got up and grabbed Gramma Jenkins' hand, fat tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Adopt me, Gramma! Please! I'm not a bad girl, honest I not! Please Gramma!"

Gramma Jenkins got down on her knees and wiped the tears from Gavlyn's cheek. "I would love to, Darling. But I'm past my child-rearing days. I've raised three children and helped raise my grandchildren. Besides, you have you're aunt. She'll take care of you better than I can." She stroked her copper hair. "Come on now, no more tears. Let's have some waffles."

"You still like me?" Gavlyn hiccupped.

"Of course, Darling. But I would like you more if you told me your name."

"I'm Gavlyn."

"Well, Gavlyn, do you like whipped cream on your waffles?"

"You'd still give me food? Even if I lied?"

"I'd never let a young child go hungry."

Gavlyn ran out of Gramma Jenkins' house with a full belly and a smile on her face. "Bye Gramma! I'll come back soon!" She ran down the wooden steps towards Pete, who had been waiting for her. "Hiya Pete!" she called. "Wait long?"

"Smart ass," he muttered. "Didja git the apple ya wanted?"

"Here." She tossed a juicy red apple at him. "I don't need one. I had waffles!" She cocked her head to one side. "Why are you still here?"

"'Figgerd ya could git me some grub, so I waited." He bit into the apple.

"So, are we going to the town?"

He didn't answered, but started walking down the dirt path. He walked slowly so Gavlyn was able to walk beside him. It gave her the chance to digest the many waffles she had eaten and not overwork her small body. She walked though more Victorian houses with orchards and white picket fences, with tall fruit trees and thousands of beautiful flowers.

Soon the houses ended and, just beyond a small river with a worn wooden bridge, was the tiny town of Catchburry.

That took me a while. I have an important message. Since took off Final Fantasy VII does Cinderella (another story of mine) please go to to view the story. Since also doesn't allow announcements to be posted, I'm posting it on my other stories. ARIGATO!


	3. Chapter 3

A new chapter!

?

When she looked out her window that morning, Gavlyn was able to see the Victorian houses and the wide dirt path that led to the sleepy town. She could see the tops of the worn buildings that had existed for centuries. And, on that clear morning, she could see the smoggy buildings of the city not too far away.

But as she and Pete crossed the old wooden footbridge, the sleepy town she saw from her attic window was not there. The little red schoolhouse was there, along with the church with its gilded bell, but the schoolhouse was empty, and the church bell wasn't ringing for mass.

It seemed like the entire town had poured out into the streets when they heard the bell ring. Gavlyn had to cling onto Pete's jacket to avoid being swept away from the racing adults and children. They all seemed to be in a hurry to do something, especially the children. Many of the older children were crowded around a worn wooden table shouting names at a wild looking teenage boy. There were some exercising on the dirt pathway, obviously getting ready for some big event. A young boy not much older than herself had cleared a space out of the sea of adults and was drawing a wide circle with flour.

It was unlike anything Gavlyn had ever seen. The entire town had come out for the event, regardless of age and profession. Young children meant to be in school were talking with the older children around the table and giving each other money, obviously placing bets. An elderly man stood in front of a chalkboard next to the table writing down names as they were given to him and taking bets from the adults. Those who weren't placing bets and screaming their names for them to be written down were climbing on the rooftops and putting out chairs to get a better view of the event.

Gavlyn looked up at Pete. "What's going on Pete?"

His eyes lit up. "Ach, I forgot! Today's the Cap Battle!" He grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we need to get a good seat!" He started running, dragging her behind him.

"Where are we going?" she yelled, trying to avoid people while keeping up with Pete. She narrowly avoided hitting her side as she passed the table. Pete wouldn't answer, just led her to a worn looking place with the words "saloon" painted in fading red. They ran up the creaky steps and almost ran into a young woman dressed in nineteenth century Can-Can Girl dress.

"Pete!" she gasped, a hand on her voluptuous bosom. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry Millie," he apologized, grinning. "Jest gotta get a good seat."

The woman named Millie sighed. "You know the King always keeps a seat open for his favorite advisors. And it's a good seat too." She eyed Gavlyn. "Who's the kid?"

Pete looked down at Gavlyn. She stared back up at him. "I don't think I caught yer name, lass."

Gavlyn looked from Pete to Millie. "I'm Gavlyn Grey."

Millie crouched down to Gavlyn's level. "I'm Mildred Stone, but everyone calls me Millie. What are you doing with Pete? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"

"She's an orphan, Millie," Pete explained. "She's livin' at the orphanage with her Aunt."

"You're Lavinia's niece? Then that means…" She brushed a lock of hair away from Gavlyn's face. "I'm sorry for your loss, Gavlyn. I knew your mother when she was young. I was her best friend growing up."

"You knew Mommy?"

She nodded. "You look just like her. We grew up in this town, and went to school in the city. That's where she met your father, in high school. I remember when they got married and moved to the states. She wrote me when she had you a few weeks after her twentieth birthday. I can't believe she's dead."

"It's okay," Gavlyn soothed. "Mommy and Daddy are in heaven now, watching over me."

Millie wiped away a few stray tears. "Such optimism for a young girl. You do take after your mother."

Pete, impatient, tugged on Millie's arms. "Millie," he whined. "We need to get good seats."

"_I_ dear Pete, already _have_ a good seat," she said, standing up. "Like always, I sit on the right side of the King. But, because I'm so nice, I saved you a seat next to me. The seat for the advisor."

Pete squealed and gave Millie a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love ya Millie! Always have!" He half jogged to his seat and sat down with a sigh of content. Gavlyn tugged on Millie's hand.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why isn't anyone in school or at work? And who's the King everyone keeps talking about?"

She picked the five-year-old up and cradled her on her hip. "Come sit with me and I'll explain everything." She tweaked Gavlyn's nose and sat them down in her chair next to the King's "throne". She cradled the child against her bosom and rocked her back and forth. Gavlyn, who hadn't felt a mother's touch in what felt like years, found it comforting to be rocked back and forth. "A long time ago, back when my parents were in their teenage years, a young girl came to town and started gathering the children into one gang, making herself the Queen. She even had a crown made. It's a little faded now, and it's had to have the stitching redone, but it still proudly proclaims the owners title. She became Angelic Knight, the strongest kid in the town.

"But one day, a younger kid tried to take the hat from her. He didn't believe she was capable of keeping the gang together. So he fought her. She kicked his a-I mean behind. But she knew she could never keep up her reign for very long. She decided to hold a tournament once every two years to determine her apprentice, Angelic Hunter. She would train the apprentice until she thought the apprentice was ready, and then hold a Battle Royal. If the apprentice passed, the hat would be passed down and the apprentice would become the new Angelic Knight. If not, the apprentice would either go back to training, or allow a new apprentice to take his or her place."

"But it doesn't explain all this." Gavlyn waved her hand at the crowd.

"It's become a tradition through the town. Everyone turns out to watch the competition because, at one time or another, they were part of it."

"Were you?"

Millie laughed. "No. I was much too scared of all the big boys to fight. But your mother-now she could fight. If Jane hadn't sent Angela and Lavinia to a private school in the city, she would have become the next Angelic Knight."

"And the Queen," Gavlyn added.

"Yes, she would have become the Queen and had the respect of everyone in the town. For you see, the entire town respects the person in power and gifts are given for the good deeds he or she performs."

Gavlyn's eyes grew wide. "They get free things?"

"It's because the King is not a bully, like most would think. He keeps the peace, like a police officer or a sheriff, but among the kids. He makes sure the kids of the town treat everyone equally, for everyone is equal in the eyes of the King. It doesn't matter if what gender, race, or religion, the King treats them like everyone else. He's gentle with the young ones, and respectful of the adults. He doesn't impose his will on anyone. That's why everyone loves him.

"But, he's dangerous. That's why he's so respected. You don't want to get on the wrong side of the King. If you do, he'll drop your a-I mean hide right where you stand. He's faster than any king that's ever reigned, smarter too. He learns your moves as soon as you make them, and then uses them against you. You have to be quick when fighting the King or he'll break you in less than a minute."

"I want to join. It sounds fun."

Millie stared down at her, mouth agape. "Honey, they'd snap you in half! You wouldn't last five minutes!"

Gavlyn jumped down from her lap. "I'm gonna try!" She ran into the crowd and disappeared.

"Gavlyn!" Millie cried. "Gavlyn! She's going to get herself killed!" She ran into the crowd but was blocked by two gloating men, each trying to out-brag the other. "GAVLYN!"

Gavlyn pushed her way through the crowd, squeezing through the gaps of people. She was small enough to squeeze through the smallest of holes, but everyone was so tightly packed that sliding through their legs was nearly impossible for her to do. But, with effort, she made it through the thick gathering of men and women, but was stopped by the crowd around the table.

There were no girls that she could see. All the children madly screaming out their names and bets were boys, which made Gavlyn wonder about the fairness of the competition. Were the girls too afraid to compete because of the boys? Or were the boys excluding the girls because they thought girls were too weak?

Gavlyn wasn't afraid. She wasn't even the least bit nervous. Sure, she was going up against young boys twice her size. There were even boys turning into young men who were stretching and preparing to fight. But this was an opportunity to become something her mother desired. She was going to get the Crown for her mother. _Yeah, _she thought, _this is for Mommy. _And that's what she kept telling herself as she pushed through the crowds to the sign-in table.

The boy at the table was beginning to look flustered, but didn't let anyone catch on to it. His cheeks were flushed and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, making his bangs stick, but he stayed as cool and composed as he could be. Gavlyn stayed behind the crowd, waiting until it dispersed. She moved only once, when a boy a few years older than herself pushed her aside.

"Outta the way, Shrimpy!" he cried, pushing her aside. Gavlyn made a hand gesture she learned from watching her father in the car. She didn't know what it meant, but she figured it was rude. People always seemed to yell a lot when they saw the gesture.

Finally, the crowd settled down, and the boy had some time to rest. Gavlyn let him breathe for a few moments before she approached. He was muttering violently.

"Bloody hell," he cursed. "I don't know what these blokes are thinking. Half the bastards can't even throw a punch."

"Then why let them through?" Gavlyn inquired.

"'Cause then I'd have a riot. An' the King wouldn' like that." He brushed back his mane of hair. Then he looked down at Gavlyn. "Oi, who are you?"

"Gavlyn Grey. I'd like to sign up."

"Rather puny. How old are you?"

"Five."

The boy wheezed.

"What?"

He looked pained. "I can't be lettin' in a runt like you. Pat'll kill me."

"I'll give you five bucks."

"No!" The boy looked disgusted. "I ain't lettin' you in!"

"Ten bucks."

"Right shrewd for a five-year-old."

"I'm a bloody genius. Now let me in!"

"NO!"

"Oi," another voice said, entering the argument.

Gavlyn turned around and the boy looked up. Standing before them, a woman dressed in the same clothes as Millie on each arm, was the King. He wasn't at all what she expected, which was a slightly stocky, ruddy faced little boy. Who she saw was a tall, lanky young man with wild black hair streaked with red and deep black eyes. He had muscles that could be seen under the ribbed tank top, there from years of training. His arms were cut and bruised, but free of scars or any permanent blemish, except for the apple shaped birthmark on his left hand. And he looked familiar.

"Oi, Seamus, what's the problem?" the King asked.

"The kid wants in, Pat. But she's too puny."

King Pat got down on one knee and looked Gavlyn straight in the eye. "You're new."

"Moved in from the states."

"Very eloquent for a kid."

"I'm five."

Pat grinned and stood up. "I like her Seamus, she's got spunk. Let's keep her in."

"But Pat-"

"Write her under "Grey". Sounds more imposing."

Seamus hesitated, and then wrote her name down. Pat walked away.

"Wait!" Gavlyn grabbed Pat's shirt. He stopped and turned around. "You're twins, huh? You're Seamus' brother."

Pat grinned. "He's my little brother."

"By only a minute!" Seamus shouted. Pat smiled and walked away. Seamus snorted. "So you're "Grey" now?" he asked, directing his attention to Gavlyn. "Okay, Grey, you're number-" he pulled a number out of a box- "seven. Out of-" he looked at the chart- "fifty. Wait, you're up against-shit." He looked down at Gavlyn. "Good luck, Kiddo."

Gavlyn gave him a queer look and walked away.

Seamus looked down at the register sheet. He sighed heavily. "Pat'll regret this. He's gonna get the lil thing killed. He's put her up against-" he groaned- "Jenkins."

?

Sorry this took so long. I've just started a new job, and it's taken up quite a bit of time. Enjoy!


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